Every Hero Has an Origin Story
by theangelCas
Summary: Dean Winchester is a hero. But before he was that, he was a scared little boy who lost his mother, and was thrown into a world of monsters and evil. This is his story.
1. This is the Story

_**Thank you to everyone who is going to read this story! It's going to be 15 chapters long, and it will follow Dean from the night of the fire, to the night Sam leaves for Stanford. It's completely Dean-centric, it's about his life. But his life revolves around Sam and John, so there is a lot of that. It's rated T for language and dark themes, so read with caution. I hope you enjoy this story, and please leave your reviews so I know what you think. Praise and criticism is welcome. This story will update every Wednesday, so make sure to check back for updates. Thank you for reading!**_

_**NOVEMBER 1983**_

_**This is the Story**_

This is the story of a little boy.

It's a long, sad story, but it's a good one.

It's about love and loss. Family and sacrifice.

It's about fathers and sons. It's about brothers.

This is a story about Dean Winchester.

…

Everything moved too fast after the fire.

Dean didn't understand what was happening, and his father wouldn't explain. He just said that Mommy was gone; never coming back. But where could she have gone?

He remembered the fire. He remembered the heat, and the flames. He remembered carrying little Sammy outside, where it was safe. Sammy didn't even cry, but Dean wanted to.

They stayed at a friends of their dads for a while, and Dean could almost pretend that everything was normal. His dad wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't eat. Dean didn't know what his father was doing every night when he left without saying a word, but he knew it had something to do with his mom.

Dean wanted to ask his dad where he was going, and why he couldn't just stay with him and Sammy, at least until they fell asleep. He wanted to, but he couldn't find the willpower in him to speak. So he stayed silent, much to John's dismay.

And then, suddenly, they left. His dad got in a fight with the friend they were staying with. He didn't understand most of what they were saying, but his dad was saying something about _Missouri_ and _evil. Pure, pure evil._ He said that he had to go. He had to take the kids and run as fast as he could, before _it_ came back. Dean had no idea then, that _it_ would consume the rest of his life.

It didn't take long for Dean to understand that Mommy was _not_ coming back, not ever. She was_ dead._ He had a concept of Death, but he never imagined it happening to his mother. Soon, Dean would understand Death all too well, but for now it was only the thing keeping him away from his mom.

Dean still refused to speak, and his dad just couldn't figure out how to help him. Dean knew that his father wanted him to speak, but... he just couldn't.

"Son, you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what your feeling." John coaxed to the four year old. "I'm trying to understand. I just want to help, Dean." Maybe, if Dean had known this was the only time he would hear that from his dad, he might have talked. But he didn't. He would just shrug, and turn his attention back to Sammy.

Sammy was _everything _to Dean. Sammy was his _world_ now. He knew how much his mother loved the baby. He knew how she would hold him in her arms and look at him with such love and devotion. He knew how much Sammy meant to her, and he didn't want anything to happen to him, like it did to her.

That's why _it_ scared him.

His dad never said it directly, but Dean could tell that his dad was scared too. For Sammy, mostly. For what _it_ might do to him if it found him. So Dean was scared.

Ever since Dean was four years old, he was running. From the moment his dad wrapped his protective arms around him while the firemen ran about, as he sat there, cold and scared, and confused. From the moment his dad sat him down and told him that yes, monsters are real, and yes, they are coming after you. From the moment he looked into baby Sammy's eyes and realized that he was all he had left of his mother, Dean knew his life had changed forever.

...

This is the story of that cold, scared, and confused boy in his father's arms.

The story of the brother who would do _anything_ for his sibling.

The story of the man who saved the world countless times.

The story of a hero.

This is the story of Dean Winchester.


	2. Stand By Me

_**DECEMBER 1983**_

_**Stand By Me**_

"Dean, go see what's wrong with your brother."

Dean obliged immediately. John was seated at the table, hovering over some books he borrowed from a friend Dean didn't recognize. His dad had a lot of new "friends" lately, and they all had a lot of books to show him.

They were staying in a hotel room, which Dean personally found very exciting. He had never been in a hotel before, but he really wanted to. Of course, this one was much smaller than the ones on TV, and the neighbors were much scarier, but Dean didn't mind. It was an adventure.

That's what Dean was calling this... this... road trip his father had taken them on. When John had first decided to pack up and leave home, Dean thought it would just be for a few days. A week at most.

They had been gone months now. Dean was getting homesick.

Sammy was in his crib. It was a brand new crib, that his dad could fold up and fit in the back of the Impala. Dean thought it was pretty cool, how something so big could be easily made so small.

Sammy was crying, and as Dean approached he only cried louder. Dean pulled up his little blue stepping stool so that he could reach over the railing and pick the baby up. Dean loved holding Sammy. He had been holding him more and more recently, which was strange because his mother never had him hold the baby unless she was right there with him.

Dean picked up the crying child, who immediately got quieter at his touch. The baby blinked it's big round eyes up at Dean, who smiled back. Sam reached out his hand towards Dean, grabbing at nothing in particular. He giggled and grinned.

John noticed the lack of crying, and turned to look at them. "Is he okay? Does he need to eat?"

Dean glanced at Sam, and back at his dad. He honestly didn't know _what_ Sammy wanted. He stopped crying as soon as he held him. Either way, he wasn't going to speak, so he just stared at his dad with wide eyes.

John sighed. He kept talking to Dean as if he was going to respond. He should've known by now he would only be met with silence. "Bring 'em here, Dean. I got him."

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, making sure he wouldn't fall, and brought him across the room to his dad.

John picked Sam out of Dean's arms and stared at the boy. He didn't look nearly as much like Mary as Dean did, but it still hurt to look at him. Sammy glanced over to Dean, reaching out for him once more. "Here, take him back. He wants you." Dean happily accepted the baby. "His formula's in the fridge. See if he'll eat, will ya?" John asked dismissively, turning back to his work.

Dean nodded. He put down Sam carefully next to the mini fridge. Sam, at almost 8 months old, could sit by himself, and had begun to crawl. Dean was fascinated just by watching Sam learn new things as simple as crawling and grabbing things. He opened the fridge and found a bottle of formula from earlier when Sammy wasn't hungry.

He sat down in front of him, and held out the bottle to Sam, but kept it just far enough that he would have to crawl over to him to reach it. Sammy reached out, and upon realizing that it was too far away, tried to stand.

Dean gleamed, holding out his hand to give him something to hold onto. This was new for Sam.

Dean looked over to his dad, hoping that he was watching Sam, too, but he wasn't paying attention.

Sam finally managed to stand, but only by holding onto Dean's hand. The baby was grinning, and once again reaching for the bottle. Dean decided that while he didn't make it over, he had earned the reward, so he handed it to him.

Sam plopped back down onto the ground, almost falling backwards, but Dean was able to catch him first. Dean watched him in awe, smiling to himself. "Good job, Sammy."

John looked up from his books when he heard his son say his first word in months. He stared at the scene: both his sons sitting on the motel floor, the younger of the two drinking from a bottle. He couldn't figure out what may have triggered Dean to actually speak. "Good job for what, Dean? What did he do?"

Dean glanced up from Sammy to meet his fathers gaze. He just stared at him for a while, and at first John thought he wasn't going to speak again. "He stood up." Dean answered, simply. His voice was a little hoarse from disuse, but otherwise it was as if he had been talking this whole time.

"Good job, kiddo." John smiled, turning back to his work, and Dean wondered which son he was speaking to.


	3. Speak

_**APRIL 1984**_

_**Speak**_

Things got easier for John once Dean started to speak again.

To him, Dean's selective mutism meant that there was something wrong with him. It meant that the fire and the loss of his mother was too much for the poor kid, and he had... broke. It meant that John had to be the adult, and he had to do it alone.

But he took Dean's speaking as a sign of him getting over it. He was a big kid, and he was tough. If he could make it through that night, he could make it through anything. And most importantly, it meant that John didn't have to do this alone.

"I'll be right back, Dean. I just need to get something for dinner tonight. You'll be alright?" John had accidentally left some frozen pizza in the oven too long, and burnt it to a crisp. They had just rented this apartment, and he was still getting used to living in a real place again. As far as he was concerned, they were still running. But the boys were young, and they needed _some_ stability, no matter how temporary.

"It's okay, Dad. Me and Sammy are just playing." Dean was sitting on the floor of the living room with Sammy, who had a pile of toys in front of him. It seemed everywhere they went, Dean found another toy that he just _knew_ Sam would love, and he would make John buy it. Now they had a collection of toys that Sam didn't even like to play with.

"Don't answer the door to any strangers, you got it? I have a key, so I won't have to knock."

Dean nodded, and John left.

Sammy look up at Dean, who stared back at him. It was one of Sam's favorite games to play- a staring contest. Dean used to play it with his friends back at home, and he wasn't fully sure little Sam understood the process... but regardless he would stare back at Dean, unblinking, for what seemed like ages.

"Okay, Sammy, no more staring. Let's play." Dean picked up a toy firetruck and held it out to Sam. Sam looked at it for a while before grabbing it. He ran his other hand along the side of the truck for a moment before throwing it back down. He started to shake his head, but seemed to get bored and start grabbing for more toys, instead. "No, Sammy, look..." Dean picked up the firetruck again and held it up to him. "It's a _firetruck_, Sammy. Can you say _truck_?"

Sam stared at Dean, thoughtfully. For his age, Dean figured Sam was pretty smart. He could stand all by himself without Dean's help. He could crawl faster than Dean had ever seen a baby crawl. And he seemed to understand what Dean was saying to him. However, Dean was pretty sure that he should be able to say some words by now, yet he remained silent.

Of course, Dean's knowledge of everything baby came from an old friend of his who lived back at home. His name was Sean, and he had a baby sister. Sean talked about her a lot, mostly about how boring she was. But whenever she learned something new, he would tell Dean all about it.

Maybe, then, girls learned how to talk faster than boys. Or maybe, Sammy just didn't want to talk yet.

"Come on, Sammy. You're so smart! Say, _truck_!" Dean coaxed, but Sam just continued to stare. "What about this?" He dropped the truck and picked up a new toy. "What about _fish_? That's way easy, Sammy. _Fi-ish._" Dean sighed, giving up on the toys. He wished Sam would just hurry up and learn how to talk already. He missed his old friends like Sean, and his dad didn't talk about much anymore. He was always busy, reading or going off with "friends" that Dean now knew weren't really friends. They were hunters, and his father worked with them.

"D-Dee..."

Dean perked up at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Dee!"

"Dee?" Dean grinned. "Are you saying _Dean_?"

Sam clapped his hands together, excitedly. "Dee! Dee!"

"Yeah, Sammy! Dean! That's me! You're saying _Dean!_" Dean picked Sam up, (who, by the way, was starting to get real heavy.) He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed as tight as he could without hurting the poor kid. "I knew you could do it, Sammy."

When John came home ten minutes later, Dean couldn't wait to tell him about Sammy. "He said his first word, daddy! He said my name!" He squealed. "Here, Sammy, say it again."

It took a little prodding, but eventually Sam once again went "Dee!"

John raised his eyebrows, setting down the pizza box (this time from Pizza Hut.) "He's saying Dee, not Dean."

Dean's shoulders deflated a little. "Well he's little, daddy. He can't pro-now-t the N, yet. But he meant Dean."

"It's _pronounce_, Dean. But, good job. He looks like he's having fun."

Dean started to wonder whether his dad cared more about Sam learning, or just being quiet. He decided to change the subject. "What kind of pizza did you get?"

"Cheese. Here, take a slice for you. You can share it with Sam, but he can only have little pieces of cheese. He can't chew the crust yet."

"Yeah, I know, daddy. He barely has any teeth."

He took his slice over to Sam, who wanted nothing to do with the cheese. "Dee! Dee!" Now that he had learned the word, it was like he never wanted to stop saying it. Dean had a feeling, that even though it took him a while to start talking, Sammy would never stop.


	4. First Day

_**SEPTEMBER 1985**_

_**First Day**_

For Dean's first day of school, no one could tell who was more worried.

John had been teaching him more and more about the supernatural. Dean knew about some monsters, and now he understood where his dad went all the time. And he was scared. He was so, so, scared.

John had thought that if he taught Dean simple stuff to protect himself, it would be easier to send him off to school. He was wrong. He was still worried about what might happen to him out there, unprotected. He was still worried about him getting taken or hurt. But he was also worried about Sammy.

Sammy didn't understand _why_ Dean had to leave, but he certainty knew what was happening. "No, Dee, stay! Stay!" He bawled as Dean climbed out of the car. Up until then, Dean had stayed by his side practically every minute of every day, and he didn't want to be separated.

Dean didn't want to go, either. Not because he didn't want to go to school and meet new kids. But he didn't want to leave Sammy. His father loved his brother, and he knew that, but he didn't understand how to take care of him right. Dean knew exactly when Sam would want to eat and sleep and play. He knew the best songs to hum to him when he wakes up in the middle of a nap. He knew how to get Sam to eat all the yucky green stuff. Dean had been doing all that for two years, and he didn't want to stop now.

Back at home, Dean brought up the idea for him to stay home another year, which John immediately shot down. "Dean, you have to go. I already kept you out of school last year when you were five. But you're six now, buddy. You're a big boy. You can do this."

_Can you do this?_ Dean didn't ask. He knew what his father's answer would be, and he knew what the right answer was. There was no point in arguing with his father, anyway. He would have to stick I out, and go to school.

Dean thought that everything at school was _too much_.

It was _too loud, too big, _ and _too crowded._ There were so many kids it was a little overwhelming.

His teacher was Mrs. Evans, a young woman with curly red hair and big glasses. She had a big smile and a loud laugh, and she was really nice.

"What's your name?" Mrs. Evans asked, bending down to speak to him at face level.

Dean stared at her for a moment. "Dean." He answered, simply.

"Hello, Dean. I'm Mrs. Evans." She shook his hand, and Dean noticed she had a much more gentle handshake than any of the hunters he had met. They would shake your hand so hard it almost hurt. "Why don't you sit over there, next to Bryan."

Bryan ended up being the best thing to happen to Dean all day.

Bryan was a year younger than Dean. He had dark skin and dark eyes and wore a striped blue/white t-shirt. Bryan had an older brother that was in 3rd grade, so Bryan knew all about school. "If you need help, you can ask me," Bryan proclaimed to his whole table, which included Dean and two girls named Gracie and Katie.

"Does that mean we're friends?" Dean asked.

"Duh. Let's color."

The first half of the day was really simple. It was mostly for the kids to get to know each other, and Dean loved it. He hadn't really seen much of other kids for the past two years, and now there were 18 other kids his age, eager to play and talk with him. He even met a girl named Stacy, who's mother also passed away when she was little. "But then my daddy got married again, so now I have a new mommy," Stacy explained. "She's not as pretty as my real mommy, though. Too much make-up. What about your daddy? Is he married?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he works a lot." Dean explained.

Stacy nodded. "Good."

Noon was lunch. John packed Dean's lunch this morning, which contained a peanut butter sandwich, some crackers, and a water bottle.

"Is that peanut butter?" Bryan asked eagerly. Dean nodded. "I'll trade you for this Twinkie!"

The second half of the day was devoted to actual learning. They got a bunch of colorful worksheets with big letters on them to take home and work on, and Mrs. Evans promised stickers for everyone who finished them by Thursday.

"We have to do _all_ of these by _Thursday_?" Dean leaned over to speak to Bryan.

"Yup. My brother has a bunch more. But it's okay. He can help me do mine, so I'll be done really fast."

Dean frowned. He didn't have a big brother to help him do _his _worksheets.

After school, Mrs. Evans had everyone line up, and she took them out to the buses, first. Once all the bus riders were on their bus, she took the rest of the kids to the car rider line. "Do you see your dad, Dean?" Mrs. Evans asked as she watched the other kids run off to their parents.

Dean looked around, squinting. He was about to answer no when he heard a squeal come from his left. "Dee!"

Dean spun to see his dad walking up with Sammy in his arms. Sam was squirming, trying to get down as fast as possible, so his dad let him go. Sammy was a confident walker at this point, but he was still a bit wobbly sometimes. Dean ran over to catch him. "Hiya, Sammy! Did you miss me?"

Sam nodded real fast. "I miss you!"

Mrs. Evans smiled and walked up to the family. "You must be Mr. Winchester. I'm Mrs. Evans, Dean's teacher. He's a real bright kid, you know."

John nodded, looking down at his boys. "Oh, I know. You should see his brother. He's really gonna be something, I can tell."

Dean picked Sam up, and knew that his dad was right. His little brother was going to be nothing less than a genius. Not only was he super smart, but he had a big brother, just like Bryan, to teach him everything he needed to know.

So maybe Dean didn't have a big brother to help him with his worksheets or help him on his first day of school, but he was going to be the best big brother _ever_ to little Sammy.


	5. Spaceships

_**I know this is a day early, but I will be busy tomorrow, and I won't be able to post it, so I'm putting it up early! Enjoy!**_

_**MAY 1987**_

_**Spaceships**_

Dean was nearing the end of second grade when John pulled him out of school.

They were moving, again, and Dean wasn't happy about it. He really liked the school he was at. He had friends that liked him, and a teacher that was nice to him. But his dad just picked him up early from school one day, and said he wasn't going back. He didn't even get to say goodbye.

At first, Dean wanted to complain. He wanted to throw a fit because it wasn't fair- it just wasn't fair! He knew what his dad did. He had even been out shooting a few times with his dad, now. He knew how important hunting was, but why couldn't he just hunt where they were? Why'd he have to leave?

Sammy wasn't in school yet, so he really didn't mind. To him, home was just another place to sleep at, and they had a lot of those.

Sammy was almost four when they left. He had a big vocabulary for his age, and he used it _all the time_. He was constantly blabbering on about whatever he could, as if he was afraid that if he didn't use his words, he'd loose them.

"Sammy, please be quiet. I'm trying to work."

"But Daddy, I'm playing a game and its with this car, this one here, the blue one, and its in this town. But the red one, you see this one it's-"

"Damn it, Dean! Would you just get your brother to shut up! I have too much shit to do right now!"

"Sorry, sir. Come here, Sammy. You can show me in the other room." Dean picked up Sam's cars and had Sam follow him into the bedroom. "You know Dad's working right now. But you can tell me about your cars, Sammy."

Now they were in the backseat of the Impala while their dad drove them to Colorado. They were going to visit one of their dad's friends before they found a new place to settle down for Dean to go to school.

Dean was still upset about moving, but he knew not to say anything about it. Not right now. He was driving way faster than the speed limit, and he had a beer in one hand. Dean knew he needed to concentrate on the road right now, which he couldn't do if Dean was complaining the whole way. Besides, he could be real mean when he drank, so he would have to complain when he wasn't drinking.

Sammy was curled up on the seat beside him, sleeping. He'd been sleeping for over and hour now, and quite frankly Dean was surprised at how long he had been silent.

There wasn't much to do in the backseat of the car, especially when Sammy was asleep. He could read a book for school, but it wasn't going to do much good if the new school wanted him to read something different. On the other hand, Dean really liked reading. He liked being able to get longer and more adult books as he learned new words and got better at reading. Even Sammy was starting to recognize a few simple words, and he could already write his name. Dean taught him that, of course.

Dean heard Sam yawning, and knew that meant trouble. They still had a while to go before Colorado, and by the way John was driving, it didn't seem like they were stopping at a motel on the way. "Dean?" Sam asked immediately as he awoke.

"Shh..." Dean put one finger on his lips, shushing him. He used his other hand to stroke Sam's hair. "Go back to sleep, Sammy, it's late."

Sam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "Nuh-uh. I can see the sun!" Sam protested, pointing at the sunset. "It's day!"

"Sammy, you awake?" John asked from up front, not bothering to look back. Dean noticed that his words were a little slurred... not by much, but enough for Dean to know.

"Yeah, Daddy. It's day!" Sam answered. "Where are we going?"

"I told you, Colorado. We're meeting a buddy of mine, Elkins. You remember Elkins, Sammy? You saw him when you were real little."

Sammy shook his head. "No. How far is Col-rodo?"

"A while. You may want to fall back asleep, there, Sammy. Make sure he's not too loud, Dean. I have a raging headache." As he spoke, he opened the window and threw out the empty bottle of beer onto the deserted road. Dean looked out the window and watched it smash on the pavement, leaving behind a million little pieces. John reached down to the feet space of the passenger side door, looking away from the road for a second, and grabbed another one.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's go back to sleep." Dean tried, knowing that Sam was wide awake now, and probably full of energy.

"No, I'm bored. I wanna play a game." Sam decided. "I spy!"

_Too loud._ "No, Sam. We gotta be quiet," Dean lowered his voice to a whisper to demonstrate. "I know, why don't we have a staring contest? You're really good at staring contests."

Sam shook his head. "Staring con-tefts are for _babies_, Dean. I don't wanna play."

"If they're for babies, why do I play them?"

""Cause you're stupid."

Dean rolled his eyes. _Stupid_ was the meanest thing Sam could think of right now. A few months ago it was _I don't like you,_ but he heard _stupid_ on the radio one day, and now he said it all the time.

"_Dean, _I'm _bored_! Play a game!" Sam gradually was raising his voice, and he knew it was going to aggravate his dad's headache.

"Dean-"

"Sorry!" Dean called back to his dad. He turned back to Sam. "Okay, okay. Let's play a game. It's going to be an _imagining_ game. All the big kids play it, Sammy. You'll like it."

Sam grinned and nodded his agreement.

"You gotta lay back on the seat. Here, so do I." Dean scooted Sam over so that he was pressed up against the back of the seat, and Dean was half-on half-off the edge. He slid his arm around Sam, who immediately snuggled up against him. Dean spoke with a soft, gentle voice, just like he remembered his mom using with him. "Close your eyes. No peaking, Sammy. There. Okay, now imagine you're in a big spaceship, getting ready to launch to the moon!"

He could see Sam smiling, pressing his forehead into Dean's side. Dean brushed his hair back, making Sam scrunch up his nose. "You're going to be the first four-year old in space, ever! And you can hear the engines turning on, and it's real loud. And you look outside your window, and you can see everything moving. You're going up and up and up, and all you can see it sky!"

Sam mouthed _Whoa_ to himself, and Dean couldn't help but grin. "You can feel the whole space ship shaking as you leave Earth. You can't see me, but I'm waving to you from the ground."

"Why aren't you in the rocket?" Sam interrupted.

"Cause... I don't know. I had to stay down on Earth. I can't go _everywhere_ with you, buddy."

"Why not?"

Dean frowned. "Because... you have to do things for yourself sometimes. But don't worry, bud. I'm waiting for you on Earth, okay. So when you come back you can tell me about all the aliens you met and all the planets you saw!"

Sam nodded, satisfied with his answer.

Dean continued describing to Sam all about his mission in space until he fell asleep. Soon after, Dean dozed off as well.

A little while later, Dean woke up to the sound of yelling from outside the car. He sat up, careful not to wake Sam, who had wrapped himself around him as they slept. It was fully dark outside now, but they definitely were not at Elkins cabin yet. They were at an empty gas station, who knows where.

Dean spotted his dad a few feet from the car, talking at a payphone. He struggled to sit up and press his ear against the window to hear what his dad was yelling about.

"I _had_ to get them out of there, Daniel! _It_ knew where we were! That means it's keeping tabs on us. I have my kids to worry about! I mean, I don't know what it wants, but... if it wants Sam, well, I'm not letting it have him!"

Dean's eyes went wide, and he pulled away from the door. His dad never told him why they left, but now he knew. _It_ was coming after them, and it knew exactly where they were staying.

Suddenly, Dean understood why his dad pulled him out so suddenly. If Dean thought it was coming after Sammy, he'd do the same thing.

He crawled back onto the seat next to Sam, and made it look like he was sleeping. He didn't want his dad to know he was eavesdropping.

Later, when they were at the cabin and John wasn't driving anymore, Dean decided not to complain. He understood now, and he would understand at all the future moves, _wh_ythey had to move to suddenly and so often. If it was to keep Sammy safe, it was worth it.


	6. Shtriga

_**APRIL 1988**_

_**Shtriga**_

Dean would never forgive himself.

He was stupid and reckless, and when it came down to it, he couldn't pull the trigger.

The Shtriga almost killed Sam, and if it wasn't for his dad coming back at just the right time, it would have.

Dean had been terrified. He had never faced a monster on his own before. He had been on a few simple hunts with his dad, but they had been that: simple. There was a reason his dad went to hunt the Shtriga down solo. And when Dean saw the creature, and what it was doing to Sam... well, he froze.

"I can't believe you could be so _stupid, _Dean! God damn! That thing almost killed your brother, and you couldn't even pull the fucking trigger?" His dad was yelling, but Dean was sure he'd be screaming at the top of his lungs if Sam wasn't asleep in the other room. After he was sure Sam was okay, he got rid of the body and came right back to deal with Dean.

"I-I'm sorry..." Dean truly was. He didn't need his dad to tell him what a horrible brother he was for letting that happen. He should've known better. He should have never left Sam alone in the room. He should've known better. He'd been watching out for that kid for five years now. He should've known better.

"What did you say?" John put his hand to his ear as if he didn't hear Dean's tiny voice.

"I'm sorry, I-" He felt the back of John's hand collide with his cheek, and then he felt blood on face.

"Sorry isn't _good enough_, Dean! Not if you go and get your brother _killed!_" John grabbed Dean's arm and yanked him forward, until he was close enough that Dean could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You won't let this happen again, right Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "No, sir. Of course not."

John let go of his arm. "Good. Now get out of here. Go in the room with your brother. Try not to get him killed, okay?"

Dean hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Before he could bring himself to even look at Sam, he turned to the mirror and tried to get his cheek to stop bleeding. There was a small cut right where his cheek met his mouth. It hurt a lot, but there was blood in the way and he couldn't tell how bad it was.

"Dean?"

Dean turned at Sam's small, tired voice. He was sitting up in the bed, still covered in blankets. His hair was a mess, and he looked exhausted, but otherwise he looked perfectly fine. "Hey, Sammy. What are you doing, awake?"

"I heard you come in. What's wrong with your mouth?"

Dean pressed his fingers over the cut, which had stopped bleeding, but there was still some dried blood left. "Nothing, I just... tripped, that's all. Sorry for waking you up, kiddo. Go back to bed."

Sam stared at him for awhile, but eventually agreed. "Okay..." He laid back down into his pile of blankets.

Dean turned back to the mirror, wiping blood off his chin. There was a red spot on his cheek, but that would go away soon. He climbed into bed next to Sam, who was still mostly awake. "Hey, Sammy," Dean brushed back some of his hair, which was getting longer everyday. Sam scrunched up his nose, like always. "Can I ask you a question...?"

Sam nodded sleepily. "Do you remember what happened, earlier? Before dad got back?"

Sam thought for a moment and shook his head. "I remember feeling really tired, and it kinda hurt but then it stopped."

Dean nodded. He quickly thanked God for small miracles. "Okay, Sammy. You can go to sleep now."

"Wait, wait. Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Can we play the imagining game?"

A small smile grew on Dean's face. "I thought you were too big for the imagining game. Remember, you told me that you were almost five years old, and five year-old's don't play that game." It seemed like everyday Sam was outgrowing something. Sometimes it was a shirt or a new pair of pants, and sometimes it was a game that he officially could not play anymore. He was growing up so fast, and Dean loved every minute of it.

Sam stared at Dean, and made the straight face that he always made when he was trying to convince Dean of something. It was very business-like and professional, and Dean thought it was adorable. "Yeah, Dean, five year-old's don't play that game, but I'm _almost five_, and _almost five year-old's_ can play."

Dean grinned. "Alright, fine. But you have to close your eyes."

While he played the imagining game with Sam, he couldn't help but think of the Shtriga. He had really messed up today, big time. If his dad had gotten there any later... well, Dean didn't even want to think about that. But it was nice to know that no matter how bad he messed up, no matter how pissed his dad was at him, Sammy would still want to play with him. Sammy still needed him, and that was all that mattered.


	7. Grown-Ups

_**MARCH 1990**_

_**Grown-Ups**_

When Sam was six, he was in first grade. While he struggled to keep up while moving everywhere, he was learning everyday.

Ever since he had turned six, he started asking harder and harder questions, and he always asked Dean. Dean would have rather him asked his dad, since he didn't know what to say, but even at his age, _especially_ at his age, Sam had picked up on John's aloofness.

He wanted to know about their mom. _What did she look like? What was she like? Was she nice? Was she loud? Why isn't she here? What happened to her?_

Dean didn't know how to answer these questions, but more importantly, he didn't _want_ to. He didn't think about his mom very often. Not because he didn't want to, but because it hurt. It hurt more than any physical injury he had ever gotten on a hunt. It hurt worse than anything else, because nothing could make it go away.

He also started asking about their dad, and that he _especially_ didn't want to answer.

He tried to make up excuses for him. He told him that his work had him travel a lot, which is why they moved so often. And that his job was real important, which was why he was never here. It broke his heart to see Sammy thinking John thought his job was more important than him but, honestly, Dean didn't know if that was entirely untrue. But he wouldn't say anything. He understood.

But he still wished that his dad would be around more often. Most of the time they spent with him was in the car, driving to the next town or the next state. It wasn't that he minded taking care of Sam- he would _never_ mind doing that- but it was hard to do it all by himself, when he had other things to worry about for himself.

Dean loved learning, and he loved reading. He was decent at math and science, and history was kind of interesting. Yet Dean was still flunking out of most of his classes. Partly because they moved around so much, and partly because he was always busy helping Sam with his classes and his homework.

Sam, Dean knew, was a genius. He had to be. He was doing so well in school given how many schools he had been to. He was reading chapter books all by himself now, and he was able to write real well. He could even do basic math stuff in his head, and Dean was in the process of teaching him the times tables. He figured there was no point in putting the extra effort in his own school work, since he was never going to need any of that anyway. But Sam... Sammy could do a lot with his mind. He deserved a chance, and Dean was going to do what he could to make sure he got it.

Even when their dad managed to spend a week or so with them at the apartment, or the motel, or wherever they were staying, he wasn't much help.

"Daddy, I'm hungry."

"Dean's making you food right now, Sammy. Just wait at the table."

"Oh, yeah, okay, but I need help."

"With what?"

"My homework. Ms. Greene gave us some math sheets to do, and I need help."

"I can't do math right now, Sammy. I'm working."

"But how am I gunna do my math?"

"DEAN! Hurry up in there! Sam needs help on some stupid worksheet!"

Dean was constantly feeling overwhelmed, whether or not their dad was there. He felt like too much was expected of him, and it was a constant need. There were no breaks, and he _desperately_ needed a break.

And to top it all off, he was getting more and more into hunting.

Dean loved hunting. Well, he didn't love every part of it. But he loved being able to save people, and being able to know that someone is _alive_ because of you. For his eleventh birthday, his dad got him a gun, as he asked for. It was a Seecamp LWS .32 automatic. It was pretty small, but it was big enough for Dean. He felt safer with it, knowing that it was his. He could practice with it whenever he wanted to make sure he was ready. The Shtriga incident still replayed in his mind every once in a while, reminding him that _next time_, he'd be ready.

Once, when his dad wasn't home, he took Sam shooting out at the woods near the motel. He lined up some cans, just like his dad had done for him the first time _he_ went shooting. Dean had taken to it right away, but Sam, not so much. Not that Sam was a particularly bad shot. He was still young, of course. But he got bored easily, and didn't like the loud noises.

It also might have helped that when Dean went shooting for the first time, he knew about monsters, and what was out there. He had known about them for 6 years. Sam, on the other hand, was kept in the dark. John didn't want to tell him because he didn't need him yet. He was too little to be of any real help. Dean didn't want to tell him because he _never_ wanted to tell him. If he could make sure Sam lived the rest of his life without knowing the things that he knew now, he would in a heart beat. But he knew that eventually, he would have to tell his brother, if John didn't tell him first.

"Dean, when is daddy gunna be home?" Sam asked, looking up from a science worksheet.

Dean frowned. "I don't know, kiddo. Do you need help with that?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

It didn't work. "Nope. Where is he?"

"He's working, Sammy. You know that."

Sam set down his pencil, and put on that business-like persona. "Yesterday at school we had a presentation with a policeman and he was talking about guns and how if you're real little like us, you shouldn't be handling one without an adult. And even then only at a gun range or something." He spoke very matter-of-factly, and Dean thought he could probably make a good lawyer some day.

"So?" Dean played dumb.

"So, I know _you_ have a gun, and you use it when dad isn't here."

Dean pursed his lips. "Don't worry about it, Sammy. It's grown-up stuff. Do your worksheet."

"But you're not a grown-up!" Sam protested. "You're a kid!"

"I might as well be a grown-up!" Dean yelled back. He paused as if he was already regretting what he was about to say. "I do all the stuff other grown-ups do, don't I? Think about all the stuff that your friends parents do for them. _I_ do all of that stuff for you! So if I wanna have my own gun, just in case something happens, I think I'm entitled to that!"

When he finished yelling, he had to take deep breaths to calm himself down again. He shouldn't have yelled at Sam, he knew that. The kid was just asking him some very legitimate questions. He shouldn't be getting upset over that. But at this point, he was so done with having to be the grown-up, and getting absolutely no recognition for it! Adults just see him as some brat kid who can't even bother to do his homework.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'll be right back..."

He excused himself from the table and went into the bathroom. He felt like he was about to cry, like he was about to burst into a million different pieces, right here in the middle of a crappy motel bathroom with Sammy right outside, and his dad off God knows where.

He just couldn't take it anymore, and he didn't know what to do about it.

A tiny knock on the door brought his attention away from his thoughts. He spun around and saw Sammy, standing in the doorway with bright round eyes. He seemed to be waiting for permission to enter, so Dean nodded slightly. Sam ran up to him, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. Dean was startled, but hugged him back with little hesitation. "You're a great grown-up, Dean." He whispered, squeezing him tighter.

If Dean wasn't scared he was going to cry before, he certainly was now. "Thanks, kiddo."


	8. Better This Way

_**MARCH 1992**_

_**Better This Way**_

Sam knew about the Supernatural, now.

Last Christmas, Dean had finally caved, and told Sam what their father _really_ did for all those weeks. Why they _really_ moved around from month to month. What had _really_ happened to their mom.

He hadn't wanted to, and he still wished he didn't, but now it was out in the open. Sammy no longer had that ignorant innocence. He knew.

They were in the Impala, driving back to their motel after a hunt. They had taken a couple days off of school so they could accompany John in hunting a skinwalker in Two Lakes State Park. John left them near the beach so he could find it in the woods.

Unfortunately, the skinwalker had taken the form of a park ranger, and went looking for the boys. He pulled up in his car, lights flashing. He told the boys they couldn't be here, but he could take them somewhere safe until their dad returned.

They had almost gone with him, too.

If John hadn't been able to track it back to the beach...

John took care of the skinwalker, and threw them back in the car. He was completely silent, and hadn't said a word for almost two hours now.

Even Sam knew better than to say something. John was pissed, and scared for his boys. Sam had scooted closer and closer to Dean, until he could lay his head against his shoulder comfortably. Dean let him, and wrapped his arm around Sam.

Dean knew it had been stupid to listen to the park ranger, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't exactly say _no_ to him! He had on the uniform and everything. He would have just arrested them, or something, and John _still_ would have been mad.

When John pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot, Dean knew the grace period was over.

As soon as they were all inside, John started yelling. "You boys know better than that! I _told_ you we were going after a skinwalker! You _know_ they can change what they look like! They could be _anyone_! Have I not taught to well enough to not go off with strangers?"

Dean look down and stared at his shoes, not saying anything. Sam, on the other hand...

"But, Dad, he was a ranger! What else were we s'pposed to do?" He argued. Dean wondered sometimes if John was glad Sam knew about hunting. Sure, he could be helpful with researching, and eventually even hunting itself. But for now, all Sam really did was argue and complain about it. He questioned things that Dean never even thought of before.

"That don't matter, boy! He wasn't really a ranger! He was a _monster_! And he almost got to you two!" John's voice cracked during the last part, and he had to look away for a second to compose himself. Dean knew that he was scared. That's why he acted the way he did. He was just as scared as Dean was. When John spoke again, he was looking directly at Dean. "Dean, you _especially_ should know better. You're supposed to _protect_ him! You're supposed to watch out for him! You would think after last time you would have learned your lesson!"

Dean flinched at his fathers words. "I know, sir... I'm sorry, Dad. I just..." His voice was small and pathetic, and he knew it.

John leaned down, grabbing Dean by his shirt collar, and pulling him closer. "You just _what_? Just going to get you and your brother _killed?_ Is that it?" John was in his face now, and Dean tried to pull away and put some distance between them, but he couldn't.

"No! Of course not, sir. I... I won't let it happen again!" Dean prayed that his father would let him go, and just _drop it_ for now. Sam was standing just a foot away, and he could feel him staring at him.

"No, you won't." John glared at him for only a few more seconds and then dropped him. Dean realized he had been standing on his toes when he dropped the few inches back to the ground. He chanced a sideways glace at Sam, who was staring at him wide-eyed. Sammy, always with the staring. John took a few steps back, now addressing both boys, again. "I don't even know what your punishment will be, but I'll let you know when I get back." He said, grabbing his keys and wallet from the table. "Neither one of you leaves this room for _anything_, got it?"

John left, slamming the door behind him as he did. He didn't say where he was running off too, but Dean knew it was the bar. He had a rough day, and he had gone to drink it away.

That left Dean and Sam, standing in the middle of the room, silent.

Eventually, Sam spoke up. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am, Sammy. Come on, let's get you something to eat." Dean turned to really look at Sam for the first time since they came home. He was standing still, his hands at his sides, looking up at Dean with big, sad eyes. Sam allowed him to lead him to the table, and for that Dean was grateful. "What do you want? Mac and cheese? I think we have some..." Dean shuffled through the cabinets until he found a box.

Mac and cheese was Sam's favorite at the moment. He was constantly changing what he liked and disliked, so it was hard to keep up. But hey, what kid doesn't like mac and cheese?

Sam sat patiently at the table while Dean cooked. He would have offered his help, but he knew he wasn't allowed to touch the stove, so he sat and waited instead. Dean worked silently, stirring the noodles in the pot. He knew Sam was waiting for something... waiting to say something. He knew that look. He was upset, and he wasn't afraid to say it. He was different from Dean like that. He didn't keep anything in. He said how he felt. Dean was glad about that.

"Hey, you want to mix in the cheese?" Dean offered as he drained the pot. Sam's face brightened at that, and he nodded, running over to help.

Dean watched as Sam squeezed the packet of cheese into the pot, and stirred it with the spoon. He was almost done when he stopped, suddenly, and turned to Dean. "Dean, I'm okay."

"What?"

"I'm okay. I'm not hurt or anything."

"Yeah, I know, kiddo."

"Yeah, but... what Dad said..."

Dean sighed, extending his arms to Sam, who graciously accepted his hug. "Don't worry about what Dad said, Sam. He was just worried about you, that's all. He just wants to make sure nothing bad happens to you, just like me."

"I know. But I'm worried about _you_... You go hunting just like Dad! What if you get hurt?" Sam's eyes were filled with tears now, and he reminded Dean of Sammy when he was just a baby, crying over everything. But back then, it was much easier to fix.

"Dad will be there, Sammy. Don't worry about me. Worry about you. Now, come on. Finish up this mac and cheese."

That night, Dean made sure Sam was in bed and asleep long before John got back. Sam had already heard him yell once, and it obviously upset him. Now John would be drunk, and much, much worse.

So he put Sam to bed, and tried to fall asleep on the couch. All the while he was thinking to himself, it was better this way.


	9. Mary

_**I don't know if y'all watched the season 10 premiere last night... but oh my god. It was amazing. I'm so excited for this season!**_

_**NOVEMBER 1993**_

_**Mary**_

Today was the ten year anniversary of Mary's death.

There were only two days of the year that John spoke about Mary. Today, and their anniversary.

John never hunted on this day. He always made sure he was home. And the only thing he did all day was drink.

Dean, of course, was fully aware of what day it was. He tried not to think about his mom all that much. It was too painful, even now. He knew it was hard on his dad, too. And he knew that on a day like today, even _looking_ at the kids reminded John of Mary, so it was best to leave him be.

Dean figured the best thing to do was take Sammy out somewhere after school. They'd make a day of it. Normally, John would be dead set against it, but right now he'd be too drunk to care.

Dean made sure Sam was dressed and ready to go. He stuffed some of his personal "emergency" cash in his wallet and shuffled him out the door. John was sitting in the living room, already with a beer in his hands. He glanced over at the boys as they passed him, but only offered a weak, "Where are boys goin'?"

"To school, sir. We, uh, we might see a movie afterwords. We'll be back soon, though." Dean lied. It was only a partial lie. Maybe they'd go to a movie, maybe not. But they wouldn't be back for a while.

After school let out, Sam was ecstatic. It wasn't too often Dean offered to take him out wherever he wanted to go. As soon as they were out the door he was practically bouncing off the walls. "Where to first, Sammy?"

They took the car, even though Dean didn't have a license yet. As soon as he was old enough, he would get one, but even now he was a good driver. He'd been driving his dad around for years when he was either too drunk, or too hurt.

First they went bowling. The bowling alley was practically empty even at 4pm except for the pretty girl at the cash register. She must have been 16, with curly blonde locks and bright blue eyes. She found Sam absolutely adorable, and got them both free sodas.

Sam had never been bowling before, but Dean had gone a couple times in the past with some school friends, so he showed Sam how to play. The first game they played, Sam did pretty badly. Dean bowled an 88 but Sam only got a 36. "Not bad for your first game, Sammy. Wanna play again?"

The second round was much better for both of them. Dean ended with an 113, and Sam went all the way up to an 80. "There ya go! You've got the hang of it now!" Dean congratulated him.

They had dinner at the bowling alley. Chicken fingers and fries for Sam, and a burger for Dean. "This is so much fun, Dean. We have to come back later and play again." Sam grinned, shoving a couple fries in his mouth.

Dean smiled and nodded, but knew that it was unlikely. Maybe next time John went hunting without them, Dean could save up a bit and find a bowling alley nearby wherever they were. They could make a tradition out of it. Sammy would love that. "Where to next? It's only six. We still got some daylight hours."

Sam thought about it, and answered, "Let's see a movie. You told Dad we were going to, anyway."

They went to see _What's Eating Gilbert Grape_ at Sam's request. Sam loved it, and afterwords they snuck into _Jurassic Park_ just because they could, and because Dean said he was in mighty need of man-eating dinosaurs.

It was just before midnight that Sam finally asked to go home so he could get some sleep before school tomorrow.

When they got home, they stayed quiet as to not wake up John, who was passed out on the couch. Dean made sure Sam brushed his teeth and got dressed, and sent him to bed. "'Night, Sammy. See you in the morning." Dean bent down and kissed his forehead.

"Are you staying up?"

Dean nodded. "I got to take care of somethings real quick. Go to sleep, okay?"

Dean tip-toed over to his father. There were empty bottles from beer and liquor all around him, telling Dean that he had been there all day. The TV was on, but at a low volume, and turned to a nature channel. Dean cleared up the bottles and tossed them in the trash. Then he came back to wake John up.

"Hey, hey, Dad. Wake up." Dean whispered, shaking his dads arm. "Come on, you gotta wake up. Dad. _John._" Finally, John awoke, but he was dazed and confused.

"What the _hell_-" He sat up, pushing Dean away from him. Dean stumbled backwards a bit, but managed to catch his balance before falling over.

"Dad, shh! Sammy's asleep in the other room!" The apartment they were in at the moment was small, and only had two bedrooms. Dean and Sam shared one, and John had the other. While John was out hunting, Dean sometimes used his room, but Sam usually preferred to share. "Come on, Dad. You gotta go to bed."

John groaned. He leaned over, holding his head. "Where the hell have you two been?" He was slurring his words, but also making a conscious attempt to be quieter.

"I told you, we went out to a movie."

"What, for six hours?"

Dean bit his bottom lip. "Well, we did some other stuff. It doesn't matter. Let's get you to bed." Dean felt like he was dealing with Sam at age 4 again. It was like trying to take care of a little kid, who couldn't do anything for himself except cry and complain.

John allowed Dean to help him stand up, and lead him into his bedroom. Dean plopped him down on the bed, and turned to leave. "G'night, Dad..."

Before he could leave, he felt John grab his arm, yanking him back. Dean turned to see his father, who was sitting up in the bed, now. "I'm so sorry, Dean," His voice was hoarse. "This is all my fault."

Dean swallowed hard. "Dad, you're drunk. You need to sleep. Let me go," He tried to pull away from his grasp, but even intoxicated, John was much stronger than him.

"Ever since your mother died, I... I just wanted to keep you boys safe," Tears were streaming down John's face, and Dean wanted nothing more than to leave. "But I... I can't. I've failed... I'm so sorry..."

He relaxed his grip, and Dean pulled his arm away. He was free to go, but he couldn't. Instead, he sat down beside his father, putting his hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dad. Really. You're doing the best you can." He wasn't sure that he really believed that, but what other choice did he have? "We're going to be fine, Dad. You, Sammy, and me. We're gonna make it through this." _I'm going to get us through this, if it's the last thing I do._

John closed his eyes, nodding. "You're right... you're right..." He slowly laid back down, falling asleep almost instantly. Dean wondered whether John had nightmares like he did, or like Sammy used to.

Dean left, shutting the door behind him, and cried.

It had been such a long time since Dean cried, he almost couldn't remember the last time.

He cried because his dad was never here, and when he was he was drunk or working. Because the only praise he ever got from him was hunting related. Because Sammy just wanted to be a normal kid who went bowling with his big brother. Because it was 11:59pm, ten years since the day his mother died.

Dean wanted to die, he did. He wanted to be with his mother, wherever she was. He wanted to be free of the responsibilities he had, and the lives that rested on his shoulders. He was tired, and he was done.

But then who would go bowling with Sam? Who would look out for him and make sure he was okay? Who else would take him to school and pick him up, and help him with his homework? Who would try and make his life as normal as possible?

And John? Who would be there for him every November 2nd, when he got stone-cold drunk and passed out? Who would put their hand on his shoulder after every bad hunt, and tell him everything was going to be okay, even though it wasn't?

His family needed him, much more than his mother did. Wherever she was, she was happy, or at least he hoped. But Sam and John? They needed him here. They needed him sharp.

So he went to bed. He decided against the bedroom, and laid down on the couch. It took him a long time to fall asleep, unlike his dad. And he had nightmares. But even so, in the morning, he still woke up and made Sam breakfast. He still got up and did his job. Because they needed him, and they always would.


	10. Leaving

_**This is supposed to be chapter 10 of the series, but instead this is chapter 11. I password-protect all my files and I seem to have saved chapter 10 under a different password. I am trying to unlock it now, but I don't know if I can. Sorry! Until then, chapter 11...**_

_**APRIL 1997**_

_**Leaving**_

Ever since he left the Boy's Home, Robin and Sonny two years ago, Dean was getting into more and more trouble.

He never told anybody about his time there. Sam didn't even know why he was gone for those two months, and John, well... John was the reason he had to leave.

He wanted to stay. Even now, two years later, he missed it. He missed Robin and Sonny and the other boys. He missed not having everyone's life on his shoulders. Ever since then, he felt even more overwhelmed by the immensity of his responsibilities than he had in a long time.

Since getting back, he had started to drink. He started to _experiment_ with drugs and girls and sex. He was careful not to bring anything home near Sam- he didn't want him to know anything about it. But at school and at friends houses, he started to "branch out."

Out of all the changes, he never thought the drinking would happen. He knew what alcohol did to his dad, and he never wanted that to happen to him. But he started taking his dad's beer, and eventually got himself a fake ID so he could buy his own.

Sam figured it out, of course. The kid was with him everyday, it was hard to keep anything like that a secret. At first he would just make passive-aggressive comments on it, but eventually he started to outright complain.

"You're only 18, Dean. You're not allowed to drink yet. You're going to destroy your liver."

_You're only 18_. He had been eighteen for a few months now, and that opened up a whole new door of possibilities.

He could _leave_.

He was legally an adult, now. He could just walk out of this house, and this life and no one could stop him. His father officially gave him the Impala for his birthday. It was his now. He had a car. He had a stash of cash in his duffel bag. He could drive off _right now_ and live the life _he_ wanted to live, not the one his dad forced him to.

A few years ago he never would have gone through with it. Now... he wasn't so sure. When Sammy was younger Dean knew what his role was. He took care of Sam. He looked out for him. He was more of a parental figure than his dad ever was. But now, everything was different. Sam was 14 now, and he was a teenager. He had already run away a few years ago, and while he never tried that stunt again, he still continued his rebellious stage (or at least what Dean _hoped_ was just a stage.) He didn't need Dean anymore. Not really. He could do most everything himself, and he certainly didn't _want_ any help.

So what was Dean's role now? His father had already started sending him out on solo hunts, but nothing big. He still didn't trust Dean to get the job done on the bigger hunts. So he wasn't able to hunt by himself, he wasn't as good at research as John or Sam, and he didn't need to be big brother-extraordinaire anymore. Hell, he didn't even graduate. At the rate Sam was going, he'd be at the top of his class. Meanwhile all Dean had to show for years of education was a GED. He didn't know _what_ he was anymore. He wasn't anything. He was _useless_.

Sam came home late from school, slamming the door behind him. Dean was on the couch, watching TV, drinking a beer. He jumped at the sound of the door banging into the frame. "Sammy, what the hell?"

Sam rolled his eyes, passing by Dean and dropping his bag on the floor next to the couch. "It's _Sam._"

"Sorry. _Sam_, what the hell? You're like an hour late, ya know."

"Yeah, I know. I'll be in the room." Sam replied, dismissively, once again slamming the door as he left into his bedroom.

Dean sighed. Sam had been moody lately, just like any other teenager, but this was different. Something was wrong.

Dean knocked twice on Sam's door, to which he got not reply. Luckily the bedrooms of the apartment couldn't be locked, so he just walked right in.

Sam was on his bed, his knees pulled into his chest, and his head laying on top of them. His face was red. "Dean, leave me alone."

Dean folded his arms. "I'm not going anywhere, kiddo. What's wrong?"

Sam sighed, unfolding himself. "Nothing... it's just, this girl..."

Dean couldn't stop the smile that was spreading on his face. "What? Shut up. Sammy's got himself a girlfriend?" Dean sat down beside him, and Dean realized how comfortablethis was. How normal. Sitting next to Sam, helping him through _whatever_. It reminded him of so many different nights growing up, when he would sit up all night, talking to Sam. He could do this for the rest of his life.

"Oh, shut up. Besides... I don't have one anymore."

They talked for an hour about Sam's no-longer-girlfriend, Lexie, and then Dean promised to take him out for dinner.

Sitting in the diner across from Sam, Dean had the best night he'd had in a long time. Sam seemed happy for once, and didn't spend the whole meal complaining about John.

When they got back home, and Sam went to bed, Dean started to think about earlier in the day, when he had actually considered leaving.

He couldn't leave. He could never leave Sam. Sam was his brother, and he loved him more than he loved himself. There was no way he was leaving.


	11. A Girl

_**AUGUST 1998**_

_**A Girl**_

Sam was acting weird.

Dean noticed Sam was staring at him out of the corner of his eyes, but would turn away whenever Dean looked at him. He avoided eye contact with him and avoided being alone with him in general.

Dean thought maybe something happened in Orlando.

John and Sam had been hunting a Djinn in Orlando, while Dean was _supposed_ to be on a five day, five states road trip. As it turned out, in the first state he met a woman named Lisa, and ended up staying with her instead.

Lisa was wonderful. She was beautiful and funny. She was good in bed. But she was also interesting, and thoughtful, and got along with Dean perfectly. Dean was actually disappointed when he had to leave.

But now he was back, and Sam was acting weird towards him, and wouldn't tell him what was going on. Dean hated it, but realized he'd have to wait until John left again before he could figure out what was on Sam's mind.

"Bobby called. A hunter friend of his needs some help a couple states over," John was already packing a bag to go, and Dean knew what that meant. "I figured Sammy would want to hang out here being how school just started, so I'm going by myself."

Usually, Dean would be a little upset that his dad didn't want him to come. Sam was older now, already 15. By the time Dean was 15, he had already been left alone for weeks at a time to take care of Sammy. It seemed like Sam was old enough to not need Dean as a babysitter, so that Dean could go out on hunts more. John disagreed.

But this time was different. Dean was hoping John wouldn't ask him to go. He needed to talk to Sam, and fix whatever he did.

"I left some money for food and stuff, but you boys are old enough to get the money yourself if you need to," John swung the bag over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a few weeks. You watch out for Sammy, now."

"Yes, sir. I always do."

Once John was gone, Dean went to pick Sam up from the library. He figured he'd take the little brat out for dinner and get on his good side before asking about what was wrong. "It's fine, Dean. I'm not even hungry." Sam mumbled from the passenger side. He still wasn't looking at Dean, choosing to stare out the window instead.

"Not hungry? Of course you are, Sammy. You're a growing boy. You need all the food you can get."

Dean stopped at a diner and sat the two of them in the corner farthest from the counter. He wanted a little privacy.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger, and Sam got a chicken salad. He'd been eating healthier lately, and Dean would always tease him about it. Not today, though. Today he stayed silent.

"So, how was Orlando?" Dean started, somewhat awkwardly. He guessed that something happened between Sam and John that was making Sam act like this, and he wanted to know what.

Sam shrugged. "It was a hunt, Dean. Not much else to say about it." Sitting across from him, Sam was forced to look at his brother, but was still avoiding direct eye contact.

"So, nothing... weird happened?"

Sam scoffed. "No. Why are you asking?"

Dean shifted in his seat, knowing he was walking on eggshells with this kid right now. "No reason. You just... you're acting a little weird since you got back, that's all. I just want to know what's up."

Sam sighed, but didn't say anything.

Dean bit his bottom lip. He missed the little Sam, who would stare at him intently, like he was the most interesting thing in the world. And the Sam that would go to him whenever something went wrong, and want nothing more than to be comforted by his big brother. "You know, you used to tell me everything." Dean wrapped his fingers around his soda, wishing it was beer. "Whenever something happened, even if it was totally boring, you couldn't wait to run home and tell me all about it."

"Things change, Dean. I'm not a kid anymore." Now Sam was meeting his eyes, and Dean realized he looked... sad.

"Dude, just... be honest with me. Tell me-"

"Here you boys go. Can I get you anything?" The waitress placed down their respective plates.

"No thank you, mam." Dean smiled politely, and she left. He turned back to Sam. "Just tell me what's wrong, Sammy. Tell me what I did so I can fix it."

"You didn't- It's not your fault..." Sam's voice was strained and high-pitched, and Dean could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. "It's not your fault. I just... I don't want you to go."

Dean crinkled his forehead in confusion. "You don't want me to go? I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. What are you talking about?"

"Not yet, but you will!" Sam looked down at his salad, pushing it away. "You're 19, Dean. And soon you're gonna meet some girl that will change your whole world. And you're gonna love her, and she'll be able to give you everything you've ever wanted. A normal life. A house, a family. And, and... you're gonna leave!"

Dean sat there, bewildered, unsure of what to say. "Sammy, why are you thinking about this? What's going on?"

Sam shook his head. "I know you didn't have some five-state road trip, Dean. The odometer in the car had barely moved. And when you came back you were in such a good mood. I know you were with a girl, Dean. You were with a girl, and eventually you're going to find one that you love more than us-" Sam's voice cracked, and he excused himself from the table.

"Sam, wait!" Dean followed Sam into the bathroom, which was otherwise empty.

Sam was leaning against the sink, crying. "Sam, please, look at me." Dean pried Sam's hands away from his face. Sam was getting so tall, he was almost at eye level with Dean. "Sammy, let's get one thing straight. I will never, _never_, find a girl I love more than you. Because I couldn't possible love _anyone_ the way I love you. So don't you go and get that in your head, okay?"

Sam nodded, sniffling. His face was red and puffy from crying, and Dean couldn't believe he was this upset the whole time.

"Second of all, I wasn't with a girl." Dean knew he was lying, but he had to fix this. "You're right. I didn't go to five states, I lied. I only made it tot he state line before I lost the money for gas." It wasn't a perfect lie, but he hoped it was believable enough.

Sam's eyes went wide. "You lost the money? How?"

"I was trying to win some extra money playing pool at this bar. Turns out I was more drunk than I thought, and I ended up losing it all. I just didn't want to tell Dad, so I lied."

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes. "So... you weren't really with a girl?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Well, not just one, anyway." He winked, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have gotten so upset..."

"It's okay, kiddo. Now come on, and let's finish our food."

Dean felt much better after talking to Sam. Sam seemed to believe his lie, and he stopped acting so weird towards him.

Dean had no idea that Sam didn't believe a word he said. Sam knew his brother, and he knew him well. He knew when Dean was lying to him, and in that moment, he definitely was.

Dean also had no idea that that was the night Sam decided he was going to leave. He couldn't stand the thought of Dean taking off one night, and never coming back. So he decided he would have to be the first one to go.


	12. Flagstaff

_**Sorry this is a bit out of order!**_

_**This is the original chapter 10, which I was just able to access. I decided to release it now, rather than on Wednesday, since I already screwed it up. Anyway, thank you for reading!**_

_**FEBRUARY 1995**_

_**Flagstaff**_

Sam was gone.

John was hunting some spirit, meanwhile Dean and Sam were saying in a motel in Flagstaff.

Except Sam was gone.

Sam, at 11, was becoming quite a handful. He was arguing more and more, and not just with John anymore. He hated hunting, and he hated what he was missing because of it. Dean couldn't help but agree with Sam, but at the same time, he knew that their mission was important. They had to find _it_, and they had to kill it. They owed it to Mary.

Sam was also starting to demand his own space, and his own privacy. He never used to mind moving around, and sharing rooms and beds with Dean. Now, Dean spent most nights on the couch just to appease him.

Dean knew that Sam was only being moody because he was growing up. He was almost a teenager, and that's just how kids act. That's how they're _supposed_ to act.

He knew how Sam felt about hunting and about this life, but he never actually thought that he would just pack up and _leave_.

The night before Sam was acting strangely calm. In fact, now that he thought about it, Sam had been surprisingly quiet lately. He hadn't argued with Dad before he left on the hunt, almost like he _wanted_ him to go. And he hadn't been any trouble to Dean for the week before he disappeared.

He had been planning this.

Dean woke up to an empty apartment. At first he thought maybe Sam had just gone on a walk. He was that kind of kid. The kind that went on _walks_ first thing in the morning. But then he realized all his stuff was gone. All his clothes (and some of Dean's. They shared a lot, and sometimes it was hard to tell whose was whose) were taken out of the drawers, and his laptop, which he got for his 11th birthday was gone as well. No, it was very clear what had happened. Sam had run away.

Dean looked everywhere. He took the car all over town, anywhere he thought Sam might have gone. He tracked down all of Sam's friends, to see if he went to stay with them. But Sam was no where to be found, and Dean knew he was fucked.

He knew what he had to do. He had to call his dad. But before he could bring himself to do that, there was one more person he could try.

"Hello?"

"Bobby?"

"Dean? Hey there, kid. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed hard. "No, Bobby, I'm not. It's Sammy, he... he's gone."

Bobby was silent on the other line for a moment, and Dean thought maybe he hung up. "He's gone? Like, gone gone?"

"Like, he packed up all his stuff and left in the middle of the night!" Dean's whole body was shaking with worry. Maybe the kid had taken off on his own, but who knows what may have happened to him once he left.

"It's okay, Dean. The important thing is to stay calm. This isn't your fault. Now, where's John?"

"I don't know. He's on a hunt. I... I haven't told him yet." Dean answered. "I was h-hoping maybe he called you or something. Maybe he needed your help or something?"

Bobby sighed. "No, I'm sorry, Dean. You know I would've called you right away if I heard something like that from Sam. Now, you need to go call John, and tell him what happened. You be honest with him, now. He needs all the information he can get to find him." Dean nodded, not remembering that Bobby couldn't see him. "It's okay, Dean. Like I said, this isn't your fault. You'll find him. Now, I'll do what I can from here. I'll call some other hunters and see if they know anything, or if they've seen him. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Bobby. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Dean. You can always call me."

After his call with Bobby, Dean knew it was inevitable. His dad was going to be pissed, but he needed his help to find him.

"This is John."

Dean's heart skipped a beat, and he had to take a deep breath before answering. "Dad? It's Dean."

"Dean, what the hell are you calling me for? You know I'm on a hunt right now." John's voice was already aggravated. From what Dean could tell, the hunt wasn't going well. But it was about to get a lot worse.

"Dad, it's Sam. He... he's gone, sir."

"What the hell do you mean, gone?"

"He, uh... I don't know, he's just... gone. He was here last night and then this morning-"

"I'm coming home. I'll be there in two hours." John hung up. Dean slammed the phone down on the receiver. He had two hours to figure out what to say.

In an hour and a half, he heard his dad's truck pull up to the room. Dean's heart sank at the sound.

As soon as he opened the door, John was already saying, "Where the hell is Sam, Dean?"

Dean stood from the table he had been sitting at. He didn't really manage to think of anything more to say in the time since the phone call. "He took off, Dad. He packed up his bags and left. I looked everywhere for him! All over town, and all his friends houses, and-"

In just two long strides John was right in front of him. His hand raised and came down hard on his face. "What the fuck is the matter with you, Dean? How could you let him do that?" There was no time to answer before John had him by the collar of his jacket. "He's only eleven! He's just a kid! How is he supposed to fend for himself out there, huh?" Another hit.

"I'm sorry, sir! I had no idea-"

Dean felt himself being shoved into the wall. He felt the back of his head hit the wall, hard, and John's hands still wrapped around his jacket. "You're sorry? That's all you _ever_ are, Dean! You're _sorry_! When are you _ever _going to learn?" John spat, tightening his grip on Dean. "Sorry isn't gonna do _shit_ for Sam when he's _dead!_" A punch landed in his gut, and he tried to double over but couldn't. "Now _I_ had to drag my ass home from a _hunt_ to find the damn kid! Who knows how many more innocent people are going to be hurt or killed by that spirit, because I had to run home to clean up _your_ mess!"

John threw him backwards, and Dean collided with the table. He fell down onto the cold tile, and stayed down. He could feel the blood on his face, and he hurt all over. He heard his dad walk over to him. He felt a kick to his side, followed by John's voice saying, "Get up, Dean. We're going to find your brother."

Dean struggled to stand up, and when he did, his dad was already at the door. "You take the Impala, I'm taking the truck. Now hurry up, and let's find this kid before he goes and get himself killed."

It took two whole weeks to find Sam, and they were torture. John barely spoke to him, and when he did it usually involved more yelling and violence. When they finally found Sam, Dean was relieved for all sorts of reasons.

Apparently, Sam had hitchhiked his way two towns over, and was squatting in an abandoned house.

The drive back home was... awkward, to say the least.

"You _know_ what's out there, Sam! How could you be stupid enough to think you could make it out there all alone?"

"I know what I was doing, Dad! I can take care of myself!"

"You're eleven years old, Sam! Your brother's done everything for you since you were six months! What the hell were you thinking?"

They yelled back and forth for the whole drive, and Dean just sat quietly in the backseat.

When they finally got back, Sam was grounded "forever", to which he replied, "Fine! I don't fucking care anymore!"

"It's about damn time we find the kid," John growled, packing up his weapons. "I have a hunt to finish. I'll be back in a day or two." And then he was gone.

After John left, Dean went to check on Sam. He was so happy to see the kid alive, even if Sam was less than happy about seeing the two of them.

Sam was curled up on the bed farthest from the door. As soon as his Dad had left he tucked his chin down and started to cry.

Dean sat down on the bed beside him and stroked his back. "It's okay, Sammy. Don't cry."

Sam shook him off. "It's Sam." Sam had recently shed his old nickname, and only wanted to be called _Sam_ for now on. Dean, of course, had ignored this.

"Oh, right, sorry, Sam." Dean smiled. "I forgot. You're too _cool_ for Sammy, now." Sam rolled his eyes, sitting up next to him. "I know this isn't the life you wanted Sammy- Sam. I know you just want to be normal, but sometimes you just have to play with the cards you're dealt, you know?"

Sam sighed, leaning his head on Dean. "I know. I just _hate_ it here. And I hate Dad for making me go _bow hunting_ instead of playing soccer, and for moving us around all the time." Sam scoffed, "You're the only good thing about all of this, and even you're annoying as hell." Sam laughed and Dean grinned.

"Pssh, whatever, bitch." Dean went to mess up Sam's floppy hair, making Sam jump backwards and swat at his hand.

"Jerk!" Sam laughed again, and then suddenly stopped. "Dean, what happened to your face?" He scooted closer to Dean and brushed his fingers gently over a bruise forming on his jaw.

Dean swatted him away. "Ow, stop it, Sammy. It's nothing. What happened to your face?" Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean grinned. "Oh, right, I forgot. It's always looked that way."

"Oh my _God_, Dean. Shut up!"

Dean was so glad Sam was back home and safe. His little stunt caused him the worst two weeks of his life, but Dean couldn't really blame him.

He wished he could run away, too.


	13. Let's Go

_**There's supposed to only be two more chapters left after this one, but I think I'm going to add a bonus chapter, just because I love this story so much, and it seems you guys do, too. **_

_**JANUARY 2000**_

_**Let's Go**_

Dean was in a lot of pain.

New Years Eve they were hunting a spirit. It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Sam didn't even come; he hung out back at the motel. But as it turns out, nothing is really that easy for the Winchesters.

John and Dean were taking turns digging up the grave of a construction worker, shot three times by his daughter. He stuck around the construction sight and caused fatal "accidents" to the other workers.

They had already hit the coffin when the ghost showed up.

It threw Dean out of the grave immediately. He hit his back on a nearby grave stone. Then it went after John.

John was flung out of the grave as well, but landed flat on his back in the grass. Before he knew it, the ghost was on top of him, digging its nails into his chest.

"You tryin' to dig me up? Tryin' to send me away?" The ghost sneered as John cried out in pain. "I shouldn't even be _dead!_ That bitch just couldn't take me anymore! What was I supposed to do? I was trying to be a good father. Tryin' to instil some _discipline_. You know what I'm saying, don't ya? You understand!"

Suddenly, a shot rang out, and the ghost disappeared. John looked over to see Dean standing over him with a shotgun. He was holding his side with one hand. He nodded to the grave.

John stood, ignoring the pain in his chest. He hopped back into the grave and struck the coffin with the shovel. Meanwhile, Dean was standing guard.

John was getting the coffin open when he heard Dean scream.

Dean was flung away from the grave. He felt an invisible force dragging him away, digging into his skin. He felt blood pouring down his neck and chest. John didn't even look up from what he was doing.

John poured salt across the bones, and lit the match. As soon as the match hit the lighter fluid, the whole skeleton went up in flames. He turned just in time to see the spirit, who was on top of Dean, disappear into flames.

Once the ghost was gone, John rushed to his sons side. Dean was bleeding, badly. He was groaning, and wasn't responding to John's questioning. "Dean, can you hear me? Dean, answer me."

After a few minutes of struggling, John managed to get Dean in the back of the Impala. He called Sam and told him to get the first aid supplies ready.

"What, why? What happened? Is Dean alright?" Sam's worried tone rang over the other line.

"Just get the damn kit ready, Sam." John yelled, hanging up the phone.

When he pulled the Impala into the parking lot, Sam was already outside. He ran past John and went straight to the backseat where Dean was lying. "Oh my God! Dean!" Sam cried out.

"Shut up, Sam! We don't want to draw attention to ourselves. Help me get him inside."

They laid him down on the motel bed, and John got to work patching him up. He stripped him of his clothes except for his boxers to get a better look at the injuries.

Sam stood behind him. "Oh my God... Dad... there is blood _everywhere_!" Sam felt his whole body shaking. "We need to get him to a hospital or something!"

John shook his head. "No, Sam, he'll be fine. We just need to bandage him up."

"But Dad-"

"Sam you _need_ to be quiet! I'm trying to work here."

When Dean woke up, he was understandably confused. The last thing he remembered, he was at the graveyard, being attacked by a ghost. But when he awoke, he was staring at a popcorn ceiling.

His whole body ached, and he could feel the bandages all over his skin. He knew he must have been back at the motel.

He looked over to his side, and saw Sam, asleep in a chair next to his bed. Dean sat up slowly, careful not to mess with his bandages. Even so, it still hurt to move, and he couldn't stop a hiss of pain from escaping his lips.

"Dean?" Sam stirred, and was surprised to see his brother awake. "Dean! You're awake!" Sam hopped out of his chair and sat beside Dean on the bed.

"What the hell happened, Sammy?" Dean groaned.

"You got hurt on the hunt. Dad patched you up. How are you feeling?" Sam's voice was high-pitched with worry.

"I've been worse. Where's Dad?"

Sam stared at him and shrugged. "I don't know. He took off last night once you were okay. He hasn't been back, yet."

Dean nodded. John always disappeared after bad hunts, even when Dean was badly hurt. He was used to it.

"Dean," Sam's voice was unusually quiet, now. "You need to be more careful."

Dean scoffed. "I am careful, Sammy. It's just part of the job. Sometimes you get hurt."

"I've never gotten hurt this badly. Even Dad doesn't get hurt as often as you do." Sam argued. "I'm just worried about you, Dean."

Dean smiled. "There's no reason to worry about me, kiddo. I'm fine. Just a little bruised, that's all. But it'll go away."

Sam didn't look convinced. "Dean," Sam put on his business-like face again, and Dean couldn't help but grin. It had been awhile since he had seen that face. "You know how I feel about hunting..."

"We _all_ know how you feel about hunting, Sam. You tell us all the time."

"Dean, please. I'm being serious."

"So am I!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted, effectively shutting Dean up. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to hunt. And I don't want _you_ to, either!" He paused as if waiting for Dean to argue, but he remained silent. "You're gonna get yourself killed out there because you're always jumping into trouble! You're always trying to protect me or Dad, and you're always getting hurt because of it!"

"Sammy-"

"Let's just go!" Sam stood up. He had been thinking about this, planning it, Dean could tell. He'd wanted to have the conversation for a long time. "Let's just get out of here! Your 20, Dean! Almost 21! You and me, we can get out of this life. This hellhole. We can do it together!"

Dean didn't know what to say. "Sam, we can't just... _leave! _What about Dad?"

"Fuck him! He's never here anyway! We don't need him. He's always going on about protecting us, but all he's gonna do is get us killed!"

"Sam I can't just take you! That would be kidnapping!" Dean didn't know what the kid was thinking. Take off? They couldn't just take off! It reminded him of the last time Sam tried this in Flagstaff. Was he planning on running away again? This time with Dean?

"Dean, please!" Sam sat back down, taking Dean's hand. "I _hate_ it here. I hate everything about this life. The only good thing is you." Sam's eyes were teary, but he wasn't crying. Not yet. "Let's just go."

Dean wanted to say yes. All he wanted was for Sam to be safe and happy, and this seemed like the way to go about it. But... he couldn't. He couldn't leave Dad. He'd come looking for them, and he'd definitely find the. Dad was a hunter, of course.

Dean shook his head. "I... I can't, Sammy. I just can't."

Sam sighed, letting go of Dean. He didn't look surprised. "Yeah, I know."

Sam didn't mention this conversation again, and neither did Dean. But Dean still kept an eye on him, to see if he planned on making the trip without him.

Years later, Dean would regret not saying yes.


	14. Drunk

_**MAY 2001**_

_**Drunk**_

The day Sam turned 18, Dean started to worry.

Sam had never liked this life. Not since he found out about the things that go bump in the night all those years ago. He'd always been ready to leave. He'd always been waiting for the right time. And now he was officially and adult. Even when Dean turned 18 he considered taking off. But Sam didn't really have anything to tie him down to this family. Not like Dean did.

Dean considered their conversation from more than a year ago. He started to wonder if Sam would ask him to go with him again. He wondered if he would come home one day and fine all of their stuff packed up, and Sam waiting for him, ready to go.

He didn't just want Sam to stay. He wanted him to _want_ to stay. He wanted him to be happy where he was. He just wished that he was enough for Sam. But Sam wanted more. He didn't just want a family, he wanted a _life_.

And Dean couldn't really blame Sam for wanting that. He couldn't blame him for wanting to go to college and get a real job. For wanting to meet a girl and get married. Maybe Sam wanted kids and grand-kids. You can't have that kind of stuff as a hunter. If you do, you end up like John.

Every time Sam left the motel, Dean thought it would be the last time he saw him. He was sure that every goodbye would be their last. He wondered if Sam would call, and let them know that he was alright. That he had made it to wherever he wanted so desperately to be.

Dean knew that John was worried, too.

He knew that because John was being too nice to Sam. Like he wanted him to like it here. Throughout most of his life, John was hard on Sam. Not as hard as he was on Dean, but still. He pushed him to be the hunter John knew he could be. But for the last few years, things had changed.

Instead of yelling at him for not wanting to go on hunts, John would simply put Sam on research duty to make him happy. When Sam was in a particularly crappy mood, John would let him skip training, given that he finished his homework instead.

John was being nice, because he wanted Sam to be happy. He wanted him to be happy so that he would stay. But Dean could tell it wasn't working.

Sam was arguing more and more with John. He complained more and more about his hunting, about his drinking, about his parenting.

"You're always off hunting some _stupid_ monster! You can't think about anything else! Not me, not Dean. _Nobody!"_

"Whenever you're home, you're _drunk_. You can't even think straight. If a Wendigo doesn't kill you, the alcohol sure will!"

"Dean's _always_ taken care of me. You haven't done _shit_ for me! I don't have any good memories of you from when I was little. Just you being _gone_ all the time!"

Sam was arguing with Dean too.

"You just follow him blindly, Dean. Can't you ever think for yourself?"

Dean had never felt more hopeless. He didn't know what he could do to make Sam happy. Not without making his father pissed. He was caught in between them, and he felt stuck.

So one day, when John was gone and Sam was at a friends house, Dean got drunk.

He went to the nearest bar around and drank. He wanted to forget about Sam and about John and about his life, and had hoped that the alcohol would help with that. Instead, it only intensified his feelings.

He only left when the bartender refused to serve him anymore. He drove back to the motel, and it was a miracle he didn't crash his poor Impala on he way back. By the time he got there it had long been dark outside, although he had no idea what time it was. He didn't care.

Sam was already back, and had been for a few hours. He had expected Dean to come home late and probably drunk, but not like _this_. "Dean, what the hell? Are you okay?" He stood as his brother stumbled into the room.

"'m fine..." Dean waved him off. "Jus' need to puke..." Dean made his way to the bathroom, and Sam waited outside the door until he was done.

"Jesus Christ, Dean. Did you drive like that? You're gonna get yourself killed!" Sam tried to help Dean to the bed, but Dean pushed hm away with surprising force, causing Sam to stumble back and almost fall right over.

"I'm fine, dammit!" Dean's voice was overly loud, and Sam was worried. Dean drank quite a bit, especially once he was legal, but he never drank this much at once. He knew how dangerous and stupid it was, especially for a hunter, and he thought Dean knew better.

"Dean, what's going on? Why did you...?"

Dean plopped onto the bed closest to the door. He looked at Sam lazily, not quite meeting his eyes. "When are you going to do it, Sammy?"

Sam stared at him. "Do what?"

"Leave." Sam didn't say anything, so Dean continued. "I know it's gunna happen. I'm surprised you haven't already."

"I'm not leaving, Dean-"

"Yes, you are." Dean slurred. "Don't... don't do that. Don't lie to me. You owe me that."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. He looked away from Dean. "I don't know. Not until I finish school."

Dean nodded. "Please, Sammy... just do me a favor. Don't just take off again..." Sam cringed, thinking about Flagstaff. "Don't just run off without a goodbye."

Sam sat down beside Dean, cupping his brothers face in his hands. "I won't Dean. Not this time. I'm so sorry."

Dean closed his eyes. "You got nothin' to be sorry 'bout, little brother..."

Dean passed out almost as soon as he laid his head down. Sam silently prayed that Dean would be too drunk to remember this conversation in the morning. His prayer was answered.

"Oh, God, my head..." Dean sat up, holding his head in his hands. "What the hell happened?"

Sam sat down on the bed across from him, handing him a glass of water and an aspirin. "You don't remember? You were wasted, dude."

Dean accepted the drink, taking a sip of it with the pill. "No. I don't remember anything."

Sam smiled. It was going to be hard to leave Dean. But he had to. He had to.


	15. Just Give Up

_**Bonus chapter! Next week will be the last chapter of the series, ending with, of course, Sam leaving for Stanford. However, I am currently working on a companion piece like this one, from Sam's point of view, or one from John's point of view. Let me know which one you guys would like! Thank you so much for your support!**_

_**SEPTEMBER 2001**_

_**Just Give Up**_

It wasn't that Dean _wanted_ to die.

The fact of the matter was, he just didn't care if he lived.

Sure, there were lots of reason to stay alive. Sam and John needed him. In a way, death would be giving up on his responsibilities to them, and he couldn't do that. There were other things too. There was music, shitty movies, and TV shows. There were girls, booze, and hunting.

But lately, Dean just couldn't find it in himself to actually give a shit about his physical well-being. He just didn't care.

And then there was what Sam said.

He was never meant to hear those words. He was supposed to be passed out in the other room.

Dean had been injured on a hunt. After getting patched up, he took a handful of pain-pills and fell asleep on the bed. But his drug-induced sleep didn't last forever, and eventually he woke up to Sam and John arguing.

Normally, he would have went out there and tried to put a stop to the fight. He'd get in between them and play devil's advocate. He'd try his best to calm things down.

But today, he was in pain. He was hurt, and tired, and he didn't have the energy to get up, much less get himself into _that_ fight. Besides, everyone thought he was asleep. No one would even know he chose to stay in bed.

Dean could hear their arguments from the room. This particular fight was not uncommon in the Winchester house. Sam was pissed that Dean had gotten hurt, (and yes, regardless of what Sammy said, Dean knew it was his own fault he got hurt. Their father wasn't to blame for Dean's own stupidity,) and was giving Dad shit about it.

"I can't control your brother, Sam. It's not my fault he got hurt. If he had just stepped out of the way of that damn black dog-"

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about? Of course you control him! That's all you ever do!" Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. Sam was always getting on him about blindly following their father. Sam just didn't understand the consequences of ignoring his fathers orders. Not like Dean did.

"I'm only trying to do what's best for you, Sammy!"

"No, you're not! Don't try to dress this up like you actually _care_ about us! Everything you do is just for your single-minded, testosterone-driven need for revenge!"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Sam. Your brother's the one who couldn't move his ass in time, not me. You can go yell at him, for all I care."

"What good would that do! No matter what I say, he's just gonna do it again next time! The only one he'll listen to is you!"

"You're damn right, he listens to me! Because that's what sons are supposed to do! You're supposed to listen to your father! You ought to start learning from Dean about that, cause that's about the only thing he can teach ya."

"No, Dad. I won't do it. I wont end up like him."

Dean's stomach twisted at those words. _I won't end up like him._

"All he does is trail behind you like a lap dog, following your every order. He'd jump off a cliff if you told him to! That's no way to live! I won't do that! I won't be like Dean."

What had happened? Dean used to be Sam's hero. Sam idolized him. But now... now Sam only saw him as some pathetic kid who was too stupid to do anything else but stay at home and hunt. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he had outlived his usefulness.

They continued to argue for what seemed like hours. Dean heard the front door slam, and the car drive away, and knew that John had left. For a few hours, maybe. Maybe for a week.

After a few minutes of what Dean assumed was Sam calming himself down, he came to check up on him. "Dean, you awake?"

Dean groaned, pretending like he hadn't been awake for the whole argument. "I'm trying to sleep, here, Sammy."

"Sorry. How's your side?"

"It's fine. Now go away, let me sleep."

"Wait, just let me check it," Sam insisted.

Sam sat on the bed beside Dean, and tried to take a look at Dean's injury. Dean tried to push Sam away, but he was still weak from the pain and the pills. "Quit it, Sam. I'm serious!"

Sam shot him a look. "Dean, I need to make sure it's not infected or anything. Stop being such a baby."

"I'm not being a baby! I can take care of myself!" Dean finally sat up, twisting his injured side away from Sam.

"What is your problem, Dean?" Sam asked, agitated. He had no idea what Dean had overheard.

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm tired, Sammy."

Sam sighed. "Sorry. Dad and I just had another fight... he took off. I don't know where." Dean didn't say anything. "I just... I can't take him anymore, Dean. It's just too much. I don't know how you do it."

_I don't either, Sammy. _"I don't know, Sam." usually, he'd go off about how Dad was just looking out for him, and it was just about the job. Or maybe how Sam would get used to it if he tried. But Sam knew all of that. He didn't need to hear it again.

Sam seemed to notice that something was up, but he wasn't in the mood to investigate. "Sorry for bothering you, Dean. Get back to sleep."

Dean couldn't stop thinking about Sam's words, even a month later. He was starting to realize he had no place in this family dynamic anymore.

It used to be about protecting Sam, and taking care of him. But Sam didn't want that anymore. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with Dean.

He wasn't the most skilled hunter (that was John, of course,) nor the best researcher, (that was Sam.) he tried to stop their fighting and bickering, but it never really worked. They both just got mad at him, anyway.

The more he thought about it, the less he felt responsible for them. He had given them _everything_ since he was four years old, and they didn't need anything else. He wasn't needed anymore. And if he wasn't needed... well, he didn't need to be alive, did he?

So a month after that night, when the Rawhead was on top of Dean, pinning him down and beating the shit out of him, he gave up.

Maybe he could have pushed the thing off. Found his tazer and shoot it for good. Maybe he could've saved himself, and a lot of other people in the process. But what was the _point_?

"DEAN!"

He let his body go limp underneath the monster, and closed his eyes. He could feel it, one hand around his throat, the other clawing at the face. He knew it could kill him, but that wasn't that bad, right?

"DEAN!"

Suddenly, he felt the monster being ripped off of him. He heard his father grunt, and the sound of the tazer. His eyes remained shut, but he felt Sam's hands all over him, checking his pulse and touching his face.

When he came to, again, both Sam and John were with him, back at the hotel.

"What the fuck was that, Dean?" John roared. "You almost got yourself killed out there!"

"Stop it, Dad," Sam hissed, although he made no attempt to argue further.

Once John was sure Dean was okay, he passed out on the couch with the TV on. Sam sat next to Dean on a chair near the bed, but he didn't say anything.

But every once in a while, he would look over at him with such sad eyes that Dean would have rather Sam just hit him or something. Just yell at him and get it out of his system. But he didn't. He stayed silent, watching whatever late-night program John had left on.

Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore. "Sam, if you're gonna say something, just say it already."

"What are you talking about?" Sam looked away from the screen.

"I can see it in your eyes, Sammy. You want to say something. So go ahead, don't pussy out now."

Sam closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, Dean thought Sam was about to cry. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean widened his eyes. "For what, Sam?"

"I know you heard me that night after the black dog." Dean's heart sank. "You've been acting strange ever since."

"Sam-"

"I shouldn't have said that, Dean. I didn't mean it." After a pause, "I mean, I did. I meant it. But not in the way you think. I wish I could be like you. In so many ways, you have no idea. Just... not when it comes to Dad."

"You don't have to apologize, Sam. It's fine."

Sam's voice was shaky, now, and Dean cringed just hearing him. "You're... you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Dean. I hope you know that. I... I can't loose you, so you can't... you have to take care of yourself."

Dean suddenly felt embarrassed for earlier. Sam _knew_ that Dean had given up. He knew _exactly_ what was going through Dean's head when he let go of the Rawhead and closed his eyes. He couldn't hide that from Sam, no matter how hard he tried. "I will, Sammy. Today... that was just an accident."

Sam nodded, looking at his feet, not looking at all like he believed it. "I know, Dean... I just... I want you to know that."

Hours later, Dean fell asleep and had terrible nightmares that kept waking him up. He barely slept, and it was only when Sam gave him another handful of pills that he got any rest at all.

Meanwhile, Sam sat up all night on his laptop, filling out his college applications. He had been working on them for a few weeks now, and he was about to send them off. He had no idea if he would even be accepted, but he felt like his grades were decent enough to give him an advantage.

He didn't tell anyone- not Dean and certainly not John. He knew John would flip out, and Dean... well, he still wasn't sure how he was going to tell Dean he was leaving.


	16. Choices

_**AUGUST 2002**_

_**Choices**_

This was it. This was the night.

Dean was out getting groceries when the fight started. He had no idea what he would be coming back to.

As soon as he pulled up to the house, he could hear the yelling. They didn't have any neighbors, so no one else would hear. Dean couldn't hear what they were saying yet, but he knew it couldn't be good. He didn't even imagine how bad it would be.

"What, you think you're just gonna leave us behind?"

"You think you can really keep me here?"

"I have protected you your whole life Sam! Don't you forget that!"

"No you haven't! You've been hunting my whole life! You haven't done _shit_ for me! Dean's the only one actually looking out for me!"

"You don't know what your talking about, boy."

Dean left the groceries at the front door, right next to where Sam's bags were left, and ran to find them in the living room.

"You can't control me anymore, Dad. I'm leaving! Stanford is offering me a full ride, and I'm taking it!"

Dean's heart sank. This was it. Sam was leaving. This would be the fight to end all fights. Sam was _leaving_ him. "Guys! Whoa, whoa, what's going on?"

Neither man even looked at Dean.

"You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You're staying right here with your brother and me."

"No. You can't make me. Maybe Dean does whatever the fuck you tell him to, but I _do not_! You can't just push me around!"

"Sam, we have a job to do. Winchesters are not fucking _quitters_!"

"No, we don't have a job. We have a _vendetta_! And it's not ours, it's yours. Mom's _dead_! She's not coming back, and killing some damn demon won't do anything!"

Dean knew Sam had crossed a line talking about Mary like that. In all the arguments they had (and there were a lot of them,) Sam knew not to mention her. But he didn't care anymore.

John reached out, grabbing Sam by the lapels of his shirt and dragging him towards him. Who knows what he was about to do before Dean ran up to stop him. "Dad! Let him go!" Dean had to pry his hands off of Sam, and then pulled Sam away.

"Let go of me, Dean." Sam shrugged him off when he tried to check him over. "Stay out of this. This is between me and Dad."

"Sammy, please," Dean knew his dad was fuming, and so was Sam. They were both at their peaks and they were ready to explode. This argument was going to turn physical if Dean didn't stop it now. "Don't do this right now. We can talk about this."

"Listen to your brother, Sam." John's voice was full of anger, and Dean knew it would only piss Sam off more.

"Why don't you?" Sam shot back, trying to step closer to John, but Dean still in the middle of the two. "You know, you could really learn a lot from him if you actually _listened_ to him rather than push him around like you try to do to me."

"Don't bring your brother into this Sam. This is about you being _selfish_. Not about him."

"This _is_ about him! Partly, anyway. He's the only reason I've stayed this long. But I can't take it anymore. I can't stand the way you treat me like a little kid, and how you treat Dean like a _soldier_. I have a chance, Dad. A chance in the _real world_. And I'm taking it. With or without your blessing."

That was the moment it all became real to Dean. Sam was most certainly leaving. There was no doubt about it. Before he had been waiting for him to give up like he usually did when they fought, and storm off to his room. He was waiting for Sam to see that he couldn't leave them. That he couldn't leave Dean.

But now it was too late. This was really happening.

"Sam, I swear to God. If you walk out that door, don't you _ever_ come back."

Both boys were stunned into silence at those words. Neither could believe that John had actually said that.

"Fine. If that's the way you want it." Sam's voice was terse, and Dean could hear the hurt in it.

Sam turned to leave, but Dean grabbed his arm, desperately. "No, Sam, wait. Sammy, please! You can't just go!" Dean was ashamed at how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn't help it.

Sam turned to look him in the eyes. Dean thought back to Sam as a baby. To the first time Sam stood up, the first time he walked. His first word- Dean's name. He thought back to all the staring contests they had, and the imagining game Sam used to love. He remembered all those nights he would stay up, playing with Sam, even though he had school in the morning. He remembered Sam's first girlfriend and his first beer. He was there for every significant moment in Sam's life, including his graduation. He didn't want that to be the last he was there for.

And then he remembered the last time Sam seriously considered leaving. He wanted Dean to come with him. Maybe he still did. Maybe Sam was going to ask him to come. Ask him to leave the life Dean had secretly wanted to leave the whole time. His dad would be pissed... he would _hate_ him. But they were both adults now. There was nothing he could do. They could do this... together. All Sam had to do was ask.

But he didn't. "I'm sorry, Dean. I love you, you know I do. But... I can't stay here. I have to do this. I have to do this for me."

And then he left.

He picked up his bags on the way out, and never looked back.

John threw a bottle at the wall in anger, and it shattered into a million pieces on the floor. Dean didn't even flinch. "God dammit! I always knew this was going to happen. I knew that kid was going to bolt the first chance he got."

Dean turned to his father, who he had barely looked at since he got here. "Dad... how could you do that?"

"Do what? I didn't make him leave!"

"How could you tell him not to come back!"

"He's abandoning us, Dean! He left! That was his choice, not mine! He can go wherever the fuck he wants. He can go to Hell, that's where he can go."

"But Dad, we still could have seen him! He could have come home for the holidays, and hunted with us. He could've been like a normal kid! But now he's gone, and he's gone for good!" Dean gaped at his fathers apathy. He just kicked his own son out of the house. How could he do that?

"He's never going to be normal, Dean! What the hell's the matter with you, talking to me like that? He's my own damn kid. I raised him. I'll say what I like to him."

Before Dean could even comprehend what he was doing, he had John pinned against the wall. "Raised him? Are you kidding me?" Dean couldn't help the dry laugh behind his words. "You didn't _raise_ him! _I_ did! You don't even _deserve_ to call him your son! You were never there, I was! I'm the one who made sure he brushed his teeth before bed, and made sure he ate three meals a day! I was the one who taught him how to deal with bullies and how to talk to girls! I was there and you _weren't_!"

John grabbed his arms and twisted them, causing Dean to let go of his jacket. "I _had_ to be gone! I was hunting! There is a _war_ going on, and I am part of it! If I could've been there for Sam more I would have!" He pushed Dean backwards and Dean fell onto his ass.

"You had a choice, Dad, and you chose wrong!" Dean was crying now. He felt so lost and miserable he didn't know how to handle it.

John stormed over and picked Dean up with one hand. Dean felt his fist slam into his face, over and over again. He paused, only to yell. "How _dare_ you call me a terrible father! I have done _everything_ for _you, _Dean. You and your brother."

John went to hit him again, but this time Dean dodged it, pulling away from his fathers grasp. "You did it for _you_. No wonder Sam left. This is your fault!"

Dean felt himself go through the wall when John slammed him into it. "He didn't just leave me, Dean. He left you too. He left us both. Maybe if you had been a better _brother_, he would have stayed. This isn't all my fault, you know."

John dropped him, and Dean fell into a lump on the ground. "Sam was right, Dean. Mary's never coming back. But neither is Sam. He doesn't need us anymore, and he made his choice. I made my choice a long time ago, the night of the fire. And I think you did, too."

John grabbed his keys and left. He wouldn't be back until he couldn't remember Sam's name.

Dean lied on the ground, and curled in on himself in pain. When he stopped crying, he carried himself into the bathroom to try and clean himself up.

He thought about what his dad had said, and he knew it was true.

Sam made his choice, right then and there. He spent his whole life being looked after, and now he wanted to look after himself.

John made his choice the moment he saw Mary, up on the ceiling. From the moment she died, he knew he was out to get revenge, and nothing else.

And Dean, he made his choice the moment he took Sam into his arms that night. He made the choice to devote his life to Sam. He wanted Sam to be happy. And even though it was the most painful choice he had ever made in his life, Dean knew that if Sam wanted to be left alone, then Dean would leave him alone.

...

This was the story of a little boy.

It was a long, sad story, but a good one.

It was about love and loss. Family and sacrifice.

It was about fathers and sons. It was about brothers.

This is a story about Dean Winchester.

But it's not over yet.

_**Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! It's probably my favorite out of all the ones I have written. At some point, I will be starting a companion piece from Sam's point of view, and if all goes well, one from John's point of view as well. So keep an eye out for those. Thank you so much!**_


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